


as long as I am in your arms.

by littlebirdfalling



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Eating Disorders, Enjolras and Montparnasse are twins, F/F, F/M, M/M, Modern Era, Multi, Non-Binary Jean Prouvaire, Nonbinary Character, Other, Self-Harm, Trans Enjolras, Trans Montparnasse, because uhhhh I said so, but also LOTS of shameless fluff don't be discouraged, those are just a warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-02-28 06:05:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18750541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlebirdfalling/pseuds/littlebirdfalling
Summary: Sometimes the arms of a friend can feel like home.In which Jehan loves Shakespeare, Montparnasse skips way too many classes, and nobody ever, ever eats the cafeteria food. Not if they know what's good for them





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Lark? starting another fic they'll probably never finish even though they are FILLED with ideas? more likely than you think. I just want these dumb kids to get a chance to actually....just be kids, fall in love, stress over tests. (and please can I just have one au where I have an excuse to not have to pretend I know how a gang works so I can write patron minute)  
> cw for smoking

“We’re going to be late for school.” Enjolras huffs, crossing his arms. “Parnasse, come _on._ ”

“Calm down, Enj _._ ” Montparnasse smirks at him. “Some of us actually care about how we look.”

“And some of us care about more important things. Come _on._ ” Montparnasse wings his eyeliner perfectly on the first try, glances in the mirror admiringly, and then rolls his eyes at Enjolras.

“Yeah, yeah, lets go.”

“Finally.” Enj mutters.

The instant the two step out the door, Montparnasse is dismayed.

“Shit, it’s raining. My _hair-_ ”

“Oh my god, do you ever stop complaining? Grab a coat if you’re that concerned.”

“And ruin the outfit I spent half an hour putting together? No way in hell.”

“It’s hard enough to believe that we’re related sometimes, but twins?” Enjolras sighs heavily. “It’s literally impossible.”

“And you say _I’m_ dramatic.”

 

* * *

 

Parnasse, to his credit, doesn’t react when Grantaire leans against his locker, face inches from his.

“Hi, Parnasse.” He smiles crookedly, and Montparnasse half smiles back.

“Is that a new cologne? You shouldn’t have, really.”  
“Anything to impress you.” Grantaire smirks, and Parnasse shrugs.

“Shave next time, and I’ll think about it.”

“Oh, come on…” Grantaire leans in, his voice low and husky in Montparnasse’s ear. “We both know you like the stubble.”

Enjolras slams his locker door.

“You two.” He announces. “Are disgusting. I don’t understand how two people can have _that much sexual tension._ I mean, _really._ I’m ace and even _I_ notice it.”

Grantaire glances down at Montparnasse, and then the two start laughing uncontrollably, as Enj storms away.

“Oh man.” Grantaire wheezes. “His _face._ ”

“It just gets better every time.” Montparnasse manages. “Every time.”

“It’s way too much fun to mess with him.” Grantaire turns so he’s leaning with his back against the locker instead of his side, still smiling crookedly. “Sup, Parnasse.”

“Hi, R. Planning on going to first period?”

“I’m not if you’re not.”

“Deal. Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

“I’m just saying-” Grantaire exhales a stream of cigarette smoke- “I’m just saying, if they wanted us to show up to class, they shouldn’t start it at 7:30 in the fucking morning.”

“Agreed.” Montparnasse replies, stealing the cigarette from his hand to take a drag.

“Besides, we’re seniors, what are they gonna do? Give us detention? We’ve only got a couple months left.”

“I don’t think they can stop us from graduating just for skipping class…” Montparnasse muses. “Most of them don’t notice anyway.”

“I’ve only ever been caught skipping history.” Grantaire makes a face.

“Hah. Dumbass. Why would you skip Babet’s class? You know she takes attendance.”

“I was high, wasn’t really thinking about it.” Grantaire shrugs. He hands the cigarette to Montparnasse to finish off, pulling a sketchbook out of his paint stained bag.

“I’m so done with this shit.” Parnasse gripes, scowling. “If one more person tells me I’m wasting my fucking ‘potential’ I’m actually gonna lose it.” He’s never known how to put into words how hard it is for him to focus on the work sometimes, or how difficult it can be to make himself physically do the work, but he knows what the adults all say. Lazy, not trying hard enough. They’d used to tell him how smart he was, how much potential he had, how if he just worked a little harder…

Parnasse knows the truth. He knows he’s just too stupid for the classes, with the teachers that drone on and on and the endless worksheets that litter his bag, crumpled and torn.

“Feel that.” Grantaire says. “I don’t fucking understand math.” He draws an angry line, sharp and harsh. “Whatever.”

“You ever think about what you’re gonna do when you get out of this shithole?” Grantaire shrugs.

“Not sure I ever will.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I see you still haven’t learned how to put together an outfit.”

Today, Jehan is wearing skinny jeans, a bright purple polka dotted skirt, a neon yellow crop top patterned with flowers, a pink sweatshirt tied around their waist, and a flower crown resting on their messy, copper colored hair.

“I see you still haven’t done the homework.” Jehan replies, unphased. “Better hope she doesn’t ask you any questions about the reading.”

“I’ll make something up about like, society, and the futility of love, and shit.” Jehan frowns.

“Love is _never_ futile.” They say, heatedly. “Even in the case of Romeo and Juliet, their love was not futile. They existed in a society where they were punished for that love, where their happiness was deemed unimportant, but that doesn’t make their love less real. Love can never be futile, especially in the face of hatred and tragedy, and sometimes it’s all we have to cling to to keep ourselves afloat.”

“Still got them killed, didn’t it?” Montparnasse raises an eyebrow.

“You’re missing the _point._ They never would have died if society hadn’t crushed them and tried to strip them of all love and happiness. The whole play is a commentary on society. They were _children_ , Parnasse, children trying to survive and love in a world that didn’t care about them, trying to fight against a world that wanted them for its own purposes. How can you not find that admirable?” They cross their arms, and he raises his hands in mock surrender.

His feelings about them are...complicated. At best. As kids, they’d been best friends-they’d done absolutely everything together. He has vivid memories of it, the two of them dancing barefoot around Jehan’s lawn, eating popsicles at Parnasse’s kitchen table, building a blanket fort and declaring it their castle. Then, sometimes around second grade, they’d had a fight. He can’t remember what it was about, anymore (he has a sneaking suspicion that it had been something to do with Jehan wearing crocs, embarrassingly enough) but the damage had been done. Now they glare at each other in the halls, silently judge each other, pretend like there hadn’t been years where they’d known each other better than anyone.

Still though, even while they’re yelling at him about Romeo and Juliet, wearing the most hideous outfit he’s ever seen, he can’t help but feel a pang of loss in his chest for the friendship that was.

 

 

They’re halfway through a scene, one where Juliet is whining about something on her balcony (he doesn’t quite know what-language like Shakespeare uses has never been easy for him to follow) when Jehan leans over.

“When she says ‘nor any other part belonging to a man’ she’s talking about dick.”

Montparnasse can’t remember the last time it was this hard for him not to laugh out loud.

 

* * *

  


“Sup, Sous.” Montparnasse says, sitting next to him. Claquesous doesn’t reply, too busy shredding the sorry excuse for a biscuit they’d put on his tray, so Montparnasse shrugs and inspects his own lunch with a grimace. They’d called it ‘chicken parmesan’. Which apparently meant a stale chicken patty, coated in a sorry excuse for cheese, on top of overcooked, mushy egg noodles.

“Hey, dudes.” Gueulemer says, sliding into his own spot across from them. “Gonna eat that biscuit Parnasse?”

“God no, here.” He passes it to Gueul without a second thought, and the boy wolfs it down almost instantly. He doesn’t have the same hangups with the school food as Sous and Parnasse do (“Food is food” he always says. Montparnasse secretly wonders how much he gets to eat at home, but never comments)

“So, what’s new?” Gueul asks, and Sous and Parnasse shrug as one.

“Did you see Prouvaire’s outfit today? What a travesty.” Montparnasse shudders.

“Faun has redyed their hair. Finistere’s prices have gone up-”

“What? He was already asking 20 for a gram of weed, that’s bullshit-”

“Brujon still refuses to get a haircut, Mardisoir has a dog now. Oh, and Depeche is looking for you, Gueul.”

“They have a first name, Sous. Aisling.”

“I’m not that close with her.”

“Ah, it’s a girl day for her today, okay. And you’re not close enough to use her first name?”

“No.” Gueulemer rolls his eyes.

“How do you know all that anyway?” Parnasse asks Sous, and he shrugs.

“I listen.”

 

* * *

 

Montparnasse is waiting outside the door when Enjolras’ meeting gets out, leaning against the wall. Jehan raises an eyebrow at him, Grantaire slaps his ass playfully, Courf gives him a hug, and Ferre nods at him. Enjolras is the last to leave the room, and he gives Montparnasse a disappointed look.

“Detention again today?”

“Apparently writing my name as ‘mont-porn-ass’ on a test is frowned upon.”

“Parnasse-”

“At least I showed up for the test, they really shouldn’t expect any better of me.”

“That’s the bare minimum, Parnasse, showing up is literally the least you can do.”

“Maybe so, but I still did it, so I think they should just be grateful.”

“You have to-” Enjolras falls silent, a stricken look on his face, and Montparnasse glances up. Courf is kissing Combeferre, their arms around his neck, and Enjolras looks like he might want to die right now.

“Come on.” Montparnasse says, taking pity on him, and pulls him towards the door. “We can stop for ice cream on the way home if you want.”

“We’re both lactose intolerant.” Enj says automatically, almost robotically.

“Yeah, but I know you carry the pills with you.”

“Okay.” Parnasse wraps an arm around his shoulders.

“You know, I don’t think you could have chosen anyone worse to fall for. Like. Not one, but _both_ of your best friends? Shit, dude.” Enjolras laughs, a little bitterly.

“Yeah. You think I don’t know that?” He wraps his arm around Parnasse’s waist, the two falling into step perfectly. “Let’s just go get some ice cream.”

“You’re paying.”

“You’re the worst.”

 

* * *

 

**Parnasse: and then they started telling me about how romeo and juliet is all about love not being futile or whatever? i think that was the gist of it**

**Parnasse: also i repeat. Did you see their OUTFIT.**

**Gueul: i think u have the hots for them**

**Gueul: if we were in third grade you’d pull on their braids**

**Parnasse: you’re the worst and I hate you so much**

 

* * *

 

“Hi, Gueul!” Aisling chirps, and he grins immediately, pocketing his phone.

“Hey, Ais. What’s up?” She half smiles, rolling her eyes at him.

“Maybe I missed you, you dumbass. I haven’t seen you once today.”

“So you came into my house to find me?” She shrugs, unperturbed.

“I have a key. I mean, I didn’t use it, but I _have_ it.”

“Remind me again why you’re my best friend?”

“Hmmm, because I’m willing to put up with you?”

“Nah, pretty sure I’m only in it for the money.” Aisling laughs at this, genuinely laughs, as she grabs the controllers from where they’re sitting on the arm of the couch. Almost like he was waiting for her.

“I love that you think I have money. Now, you ready for me to kick your ass at this game again?”

“Hey, you got _lucky_ last time. You don’t even know what the game is!”

“No, but I know it pisses you off when I win, and it _definitely_ pisses you off when Sous wins.”

“Shut up and lose, you….loser.”

“Eat shit, Mer.”

 

* * *

  


Jehan has Montparnasse’s number saved in their phone.

They’re not sure why-some group project, maybe? They don’t remember him giving it to them, but there it is, staring at them accusingly. They could text him. Right now, they could text him, say something, _anything._ Anything to distract them from the maelstrom of thoughts running through their head.

He’s good at distracting them, at making them think about things other than what’s running through their head. He always has been, since they were kids.

They start typing out a message-a simple ‘hey’.

 

**Jehan: also r and j could totally b a metaphor for being gay so the fact that ur dissing them like this is homophobia jsyk**

**Montparnasse: I’m literally gay but go off**

**Jehan: im just sayinG**

**Jehan: what part of ‘two kids in love but society tries to force them apart bc they dont like it’ doesnt scream queer coding to u**

**Montparnasse: no fucking way shakespeare meant for it to be taken that way**

**Jehan: 1 just because he didnt mean it doesnt mean it cant b interpreted that way, things change over time and just bc it wasnt the authors intention doesnt mean it cant be read like that**

**Jehan: 2 shakespeare was bisexual and SO many of the characters in his plays could very easily b seen as gay. Hamlet and horatio, mercutio and benvolio**

**Jehan: basically homophobes can pry shakespeare from my dead queer hands idc**

**Montparnasse: you have a lot of very strong feelings about shakespeare it’s unnatural**

**Jehan: i have a lot of very strong feelings about a lot of things**

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eponine is the love of my life, Jehan concerns people, Courfeyrac is adorable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for smoking

“Who are you.” Montparnasse asks, crossing his arms. There’s a girl leaning against the wall smoking, right where he always comes to skip class. He thinks he recognizes her-part of the gsa, he’s pretty sure. He’s also pretty sure that she’s getting on his last nerve right now.

“Name’s Eponine.”

“This is where  _ I  _ come to skip class.” He’s well aware that he sounds like a petulant child. But he doesn’t want to find somewhere else to go, he doesn’t want to have to change it. He doesn’t  _ like _ change. Eponine only shrugs.

“Who’s stopping you?”

Trying to keep his calm expression, he leans against the wall, pulling a cigarette from the pack he keeps in his coat pocket.

“So what class are you ditching?” He asks, and she shrugs.

“Something dumb, I’m sure. They all are.” Montparnasse snorts, amused despite himself.

“I’m definitely not disagreeing.” The two sit in silence for a long moment.

“I like your shirt.” Parnasse eventually says, begrudgingly. It’s a nice shirt, black and sheer, and she’s wearing a black bra underneath it.

“Thanks. Stole it from….You know, I don’t remember where I stole it from.” She flashes a grin at him, and he snorts

“Doesn’t matter where you got it from. Anything worth having is worth stealing.”

“Agreed. And anyway, if they thought I was gonna pay what they were asking for it-it wasn’t even on sale.”

“Fucking bullshit.” She nods and stubs her cigarette out on the wall, then reaches out a hand  to shake his. Her nails are painted black, but it’s chipped and worn, fingers stained with tobacco and ink.

“Nice to meet you, twink.” She’s already turned away by the time he says 

“I have a name, you know.”

“Already forgotten it.” Her retreating form calls back. Unwillingly, he smiles.

* * *

 

“Do you have any homework?” Eponine asks, and and Gavroche shakes his head.

“Half day, teachers didn’t give a shit.”

“Language.” She half heartedly scolds, tugging his backpack strap back up onto his skinny ten year old shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna say it in front of Zelma.” He rolls his eyes, giving her his patented ‘you’re an idiot but i’m not gonna bother telling you that’ look. She knows that look, he learned it from her.

“Careful, Gav, or I’ll take the shoelaces out of all your shoes and put hot sauce on your toothbrush.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolls his eyes at her again (really, she should never have been trusted with children, it’s only going to mean bad things) and she punches him in the shoulder lightly.

“Come on, move those little legs, we still have to pick up Zelma.”

“We could leave her at school!” Gavroche suggests brightly. “Make her think we forgot about her!”

“ _ No.”  _

“You know, you used to be fun, Ponine.” He’s probably right, is the thing. There’d been a time where she would have laughed at this idea. But she’s tired now, and Azelma is her responsibility. Even the idea of leaving her, even as a joke, send a sick pang of fear shooting through Eponine. Not an option.

“And you used to be cute. I guess people change.”

 

* * *

 

“Hi.” Jehan says quietly, and Parnasse looks up in surprise.

“You’re late.” Jehan is never late-they’re always the first here in this class, with a book in their face and a comeback for whatever Parnasse says. He doesn’t even think to hide the concern in his voice. “You okay?”

“I was at the nurses office. I’m fine.” They do look pale, tired, and all but drowning in their sweatshirt. He takes a moment to wonder why they’re wearing a sweatshirt in 70 degree weather, before the teacher calls out the first name on the attendance list.

“You look like shit, Prouvaire.” He murmurs, glancing over at them.

“Oh yeah? I have a fever, what’s your excuse?” That’s a bit closer to their normal conversation, and he feels himself relax a bit.

“I was too busy doing your mum to finish my skin routine.”

“Hey, my mother is perfectly lovely, why would you put her through that? She deserves someone who can actually satisfy her.”

“ _ Rude-” _

“So no comeback then? Is that because you always come first?”

“That’s just flat out not true.”

“Oh, really?” They lean forward, a vicious smirk on their face. “Willing to prove it?” He feels a blush creeping up his neck, his mouth falling open, as Jehan sits back. They’re smug, content in their victory over him.

“You’re the worst.” He hisses.

“Oh yeah, for sure, that’s why you like me.” They wink.

“Prouvaire. Something to share with the class?”

“No, ma’am, of course not. Sorry.”

* * *

  
  


“Do you know if Jehan’s okay?” He asks Enjolras that night, as they’re walking home from school. The boy frowns.

“I don’t think anyone ever knows if they’re okay. They’re very…emotional. It’s hard to tell, sometimes, if they’re genuinely upset, or if they’re being purposefully dramatic.”

“Hah, yeah, you’re telling me.”

“I think you’d be better off asking someone else. Courf, maybe? They’re close to Jehan.” Montparnasse takes a moment to entertain the idea, and then realizes the amount of teasing it would earn him if he even dared mention Jehan’s name in front of Courfeyrac.

“I think I’d rather die, actually.” Enjolras snorts, shaking his head.

“You’re so mean to them.”

“I don’t want them to start squealing about hearing wedding bells.”

“They wouldn’t-” Enj cocks his head. “Okay, actually, they might. But if you really care about Jehan-”

“Woah, back it up. Who the hell said I care about Jehan?” Enjolras raises an eyebrow. “I don’t.”

“Okay.” He says, simply.

“I  _ don’t. _ It’s just-it’s just weird, is all. You know I don’t like things being different.”

“Of course. I believe you.”

“Okay. Good.” Montparnasse turns away, pointedly looking into the distance. “Because I don’t, you know. I don’t care about them.”

“Obviously.” Enjolras says, suppressing a smile.

Montparnasse only scowls.

* * *

 

“Jojoooooo.” Courf whines, their head hanging of the edge of his bed. “Alexxxx. Alexandreeeeeee.”

“Yes, Courf?” He asks, not looking away from his laptop.

“Pay attention to meeeeee.”

“I will in a second, Coco, I just need to finish this last page.” Courfeyrac pouts, but swings themself up so they can sit cross legged facing him.

“You’re so boring.” They complain halfheartedly, then poke him lightly in the side so he knows they don’t mean it.

“Yes, I know, I’m the worst ever.” He replies dryly. “You know Mme will kill me if I don’t get this in on time.”

“I know, I know.” Courf sighs. “But I miss you.” Enj closes the lid of his laptop, setting it aside, and Courf takes the opportunity to rest their head on his lap, grinning up at him. He grins back, ruffling a hand through their hair.

“Happy now, then?”

“Incredibly.”

“I left for two minutes to get drinks, you two.” Combeferre sounds much more amused than exasperated, as he sets the drinks on the nightstand. “Hot chocolate for you, Enj, Orange juice for you Courf, and sprite for me.”

“Boring.” Courf smiles anyway, jumping up to throw their arms around his neck. “I missed you, love!” He kisses them softly, smilng, and Enj turns away, trying his hardest to ignore the suspicious lump in his throat.

* * *

 

 

Montparnasse isn’t expecting the sounds of sobs from Enjolras’ room, so he almost doesn’t pause outside the door.

Almost.

He knows the sound of a sob muffled into a blanket a bit too well at this point.

“Enj?” He calls, knocking on the door. There isn’t an answer, so after a long moment, he pushes open the door. Enj is sitting on the bed, a blanket around his shoulders, and he’s sobbing desperately into a pillow. “Hey.” Parnasse says quietly, softly. “Touch okay?” After a moment, Enj nods, and Parnasse puts an arm around his shoulders, drawing him close. He doesn’t say anything, unsure of what to say. It doesn’t matter much anyway-Enjolras starts talking of his own volition.

“It’s just-it’s Courf and Ferre, I’m so dumb Parnasse. They’re so happy together, they love each other so much and i’m just-I’m just over here, just pretending like it doesn’t make me want to die every single time I see them together like that. And I know, that’s awful of me, because I should be happy for them. They’re my best friends and they love each other and that’s amazing, i should be happy but I just, I can’t.”

Parnasse wishes he knew what to say, how to help, how to make his brother stop  _ crying _ . He wishes he knew how to take away the heartbreak.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t.

“I’m sorry.” He says, a bit helplessly. Enjolras rests his head on Montparnasse’s shoulder, and Montparnasse runs a hand up and down his arm, an attempt at comfort.

“I wish I had never fallen for them. Either of them.” Enj says, a bit bitterly, and Montparnasse tightens his hold just a little.

“I know, Enj. I’m sorry.”

The two sit in silence for a long moment, neither having the words to express what they’re feeling.


End file.
